Chapter 2 We're Done (Part One)

A pause hung on the line before Philip Dawson, Stella's father, finally spoke, his voice soft but laced with worry. "Stella, I warned you long ago-Owen will never appreciate what you give. Ungratefulness is in his nature."

A hint of irony curled at Stella's mouth. "I thought I could change things. I was wrong."

"Come back to us," he murmured, the tenderness unmistakable. "The man we have in mind for you is leagues ahead of Owen-he's from a better family, carries himself well, and he's even more handsome. You're the light of my life, Stella. Don't spend another minute on someone who won't return your love."

"I understand," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Once I finish dealing with him, I'll accept the marriage arrangement."

...

Sunrise crept through her bedroom window as Stella sat before her mirror, instructing her maid to unbraid her tangled hair. She slipped into a gleaming white dress and picked out a pair of elegant high heels.

Her steps echoed down the staircase, drawing murmurs from the household staff.

"I haven't seen her dress like that in a long time. She usually tries to blend in..."

"I thought she said it helped Owen feel more comfortable?"

The butler, Samuel Reeves, stepped forward, measuring his words. "Miss Dawson, will you be visiting your father today?"

Stella only ever dressed in her true style when she visited her family. Any other day, she hid behind a mask.

A faint smile touched her red lips, but there was nothing warm in her gaze. "No. I'm going to campus."

At Crest University, a group of students clustered together in the classroom, their voices loud and grating with gossip.

"You guys heard what happened, right? Stella was kidnapped last night!"

"That's not even the wildest part. People are saying they took her clothes and recorded the whole thing!"

"Seriously? No wonder she's not glued to Owen today."

Suddenly, a burst of noise came from outside the classroom.

Someone gave a long whistle, and a boy called out, "How beautiful!"

The buzz of excitement quickly filled the air.

Heads swiveled toward the doorway-where a slender, striking woman appeared, moving with quiet confidence.

Her dress fit like it was made for her, accentuating every graceful movement. With each stride, she radiated a confidence that drew every eye in the room.

At first, nobody seemed to recognize her. Then, one by one, realization dawned-this stunning woman was Stella, the same woman they used to ignore, always so plain and withdrawn.

The whispers grew sharper as a few students edged closer, their words laced with cruelty.

"Well, look who decided to show her face! I thought you'd be hiding after what happened last night."

"Is that a real designer dress? Where'd you even get the money for something like that, Stella?"

A sharp cackle cut through the chatter. "Don't tell me you started selling those filthy videos just for extra cash. I guess that whole kidnapping story was just to hide what you've really been up to!"

"Let's be honest, no matter how much you try to dress the part, you'll never measure up to Owen. He's out of your league. You really think you belong next to the son of the richest man in town?"

Stella let out a dismissive laugh.

The son of the richest man? Owen-the same guy who dragged himself out of poverty, depended on her for every cent of tuition, and only managed to look the part because she bought all his expensive clothes? That same Owen?

He'd clung to her side, used her money to play the role of high society, smiled for the camera beside her father-spinning the illusion that he was the city's golden heir.

She'd once gone to any length to shield his shaky ego and hide his secrets. Thinking about it now only twisted her stomach with disgust.

"Move," Stella said, her voice icy and flat.

Their outrage exploded.

"You really think you can talk to us like that, you shameless bitch?"

Right then, Owen stepped through the doorway. His expression hardened, and his voice dripped with disappointment. "Stella, I know things have been rough for your family, but stooping to filming those risque videos just to buy flashy clothes? And you are not even fit in that dress."

She met his eyes, then flashed a sly, mocking smile.

"Things have been rough for my family?" she retorted. "Are you sure you are not talking about your family?"

A stunned hush swept through the crowd. Everyone froze.

Stella-the woman who used to shrink whenever Owen spoke-had just challenged him outright? And with that edge in her voice?

Owen had always been painted as the untouchable son of the city's wealthiest family. Who in their right mind would say those crazy words?

"Have you lost your mind, Stella?"

"Seriously, that's revolting."

"You're nothing but a driver's kid! If Owen hadn't been generous, you'd all be begging in the street. Who do you think you are, throwing shade at his family?"

Stella's laughter rang out, sharp and hollow. She stared straight at Owen. "So now I'm just the driver's daughter? That's your story today?"

A dark scowl settled on Owen's face. "Quit twisting things. Take off that dress before you embarrass yourself any more."

She rolled her eyes. "And if I refuse?"

One of Owen's loyal followers stepped forward, reaching to grab the dress. "Then let's strip it off you ourselves, you worthless tramp!"